Texas Hold Him by Lisa Cooke Page B

and muttered against her temple, “I thought it had
     too.”
    She knew she shouldn’t hug him in the street. People had gathered, and it was broad daylight, but she didn’t care. Everyone
     who passed them by now thought she was either the daughter of an ambassador or a saloon whore. For one the actions would be
     forgiven, for the other, expected.
    Dyer stepped back and placed her hand in the crook of his arm, patting it for reassurance. “What say we return to the
Belle
?”
    She sighed theatrically. “If you insist.” And if her legs could still carry her.

Chapter Nine
    Lottie finished her toilette and stepped quietly from her cabin. It was too early to disturb the other girls from their sleep,
     but her excitement forbade her to stay in her bed any longer. Today she would learn an actual game. Of course Dyer didn’t
     know that yet, but he’d get used to the idea soon enough.
    The door made a soft
click
as she closed it behind her and made her way to the restaurant. Her lessons usually began at nine o’clock, and she had just
     enough time to eat a little and sit a few moments out on the deck before she needed to report to Dyer’s cabin.
    The smell of porridge made her stomach rumble as she entered the back entrance to the kitchen. Workers on board the
Belle
were given a small bowl of porridge each morning as part of their payment. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
    “Here you go, Miss Lottie,” the old cook said with a wink. He handed Lottie her bowl with a piece of fried ham as a bonus.
     They weren’t supposed to get the meat without paying, but he often slipped her a little extra on the side. She wasn’t sure
     if wrinkled old men could be angels, but she suspected this one just might be.
    “Thank you and good morning, Mr. Stanley.” She accepted her meal with a smile and headed out to the deck to eat in the cool
     morning air.
    A chair on the port side of the
Belle
allowed her to admire the town of Natchez while she ate. A shudder ran through her as she thought of how close the carriage
     had come to running over Dyer. It was almost as if someone had intentionally sent the horses his way. Though that was silly.
     Who could possibly want to kill Dyer?
    She took the last bite of her porridge and made a mental note to thank Mr. Stanley for the extra bit of sugar he had sprinkled
     on top. The deck was mostly deserted at this hour. A few people strolled to the restaurant or enjoyed coffee out in the deck
     chairs, but most took advantage of the cooler morning hours to sleep.
    A man ambling in her direction grabbed her attention from the corner of her eye. Unruly dark brown hair sprung from beneath
     his hat, and untrimmed bangs covered much of his forehead. “Excuse me, ma’am,” he said, stopping in front of her.
    “Yes?”
    “I don’t mean to be forward, but have we met?”
    Lottie smiled. “I don’t believe so.”
    He removed his hat, allowing the brown curls to escape. “My name is Wayne Dawson.” He smiled.
    Lottie held out her hand. “I’m Miss Lottie Mace.”
    He took her hand in his, and she noticed his knuckles were smattered with red curly hairs. How odd. He shook her hand politely,
     then released it.
    “I’ve booked passage on the
Belle
to go to the big poker tournament in St. Louis,” he said.
    “Are you a gambler?”
    “Oh, I try, but I think to be considered a gambler you have to win occasionally, don’t you?” He grinned.
    She smiled. “It helps a little, or so I’ve been told.”
    “Are you going to the tournament?”
    “I, um, I work on the
Belle
.”
    “Oh.”
    Something akin to pity flickered in his eyes. Lottie started to tell him she normally wouldn’t work on a riverboat, but how
     could she do that without explaining why she found herself doing just that? Luckily, Dyer interrupted before the situation
     turned any more uncomfortable.
    “Good morning, Miss Mace.” He spoke to Lottie, but his eyes were fastened on Mr. Dawson.
    “My, oh